


Ways to Cope

by AwkwardOctopus



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Awkwardness, Bunker Ending (Far Cry), Creampie, Dubious Consent, F/M, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Endgame, Recreational Drug Use, Stockholm Syndrome, Survivor Guilt, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardOctopus/pseuds/AwkwardOctopus
Summary: In the end, there was the Father.Or something like that.





	Ways to Cope

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to try my hand at a Joseph bunker fic as soon as I finished the game. This took some strange turns and it probably moves a bit quickly for some folks, feel free to leave a comment and let me know if that was the case for you. I intended this to be much shorter and it got a bit away from me, perhaps for the better. 
> 
> Mind the tags.

Either Joseph Seed was actually as divine as he claimed, or fate had a wicked sense of humor. That's what Rook thought as she sat on the concrete bunker flooring with her wrists looped around a bed post. It'd been at least a day since she'd woken to terror and fire and smoke, and then to Joseph, still proselytizing as if there was anyone else to convince. Perhaps it was just habit at this point. She'd expected him to hang about, to gloat about his victory or accuse her of more sins. She'd expected him to become enraged about the death of his siblings, possibly kill her while she was helpless in retaliation. He hadn’t done any of those things.

In that period, he'd only been around a few times. Once to trickle water into her dry mouth, for which she'd bit her tongue on her gratitude. She wouldn't need help drinking if he wasn't holding her captive. Still, every time he'd visited her since he'd been calm, subdued, almost outside himself. It was as unnerving as his previous confidence had been. Lost in her own thoughts, Rook was startled as the door swung open and Joseph entered, this time with a tray like she'd eaten off of in school. Was he planning on feeding her too? Was she to be his pet now?

She also desperately needed to use the restroom, metabolism finally having caught up with her after so many missed meals and limited water supply. Joseph set the tray down on the bed itself and then knelt in front of her, having to duck a little to look past her ratty bangs and into her face. "Deputy...?" He questioned softly, and she made a small noise of acknowledgment but nothing more. She still wasn't sure what to say to Joseph. She felt so many conflicting emotions, her entire world flipped upside down when that first bomb went off. She thought that a part of her brain was still there, sitting on the dirty ground in front of the church.

At her mild response, the Father nodded, reaching into his back pocket and removing a standard issue police key. Of course he'd used her own damn cuffs against her, even now. She couldn't find it in herself to be truly angry at him. What use was anger anymore? When the click of the handcuffs snapped, it was the only noise in the room between them. Joseph was tensed, like he expected her to lunge at him. She'd considered it, but if there's one thing Joseph fucking Seed is good at, it's being right. They were stuck here, together, for as long as it was going to take for the world to stop burning. Longer, if she understood how radiation worked.

She simply let her wrists drop to her lap, a little chafed and sore but otherwise unharmed. Joseph waited there for another beat, still staring at her like a person might stare at an animal in a zoo they'd never seen before. Then he was standing up, and he held out a hand to help her stand. She just stared at it, far too long to be socially acceptable, but Joseph never lowered it, just waited for her to make up her mind. Rook's thoughts raced as she tried to figure out if this was a trick, if he was just trying to lure her into a false sense of security, but again- why? Why do _anything_ now? Unless this was a Bliss-induced nightmare, her reality was reduced to this bunker and Joseph.

She took the hand, her clammy palm a sharp contrast to his dry, rough fingers. Her first attempt to stand faltered, and she fell back onto her ass with a grunt. The second attempt was more successful on her weak legs, and if Joseph was amused by her frailty, he didn't mention it. She said nothing to him as she crossed the room to the bathroom, ducking inside before she further soiled what could be her only set of clothes for a while. After relieving herself, Rook took a hard look in the mirror, checking out the cuts on her face, the bruising from the crash, ash and smears of blood and mud all over her body. Perhaps Joseph had done some kind of cursory wipe, as some of the smears looked like an attempt at cleaning, but he evidently hadn't been willing to strip her down to finish the job.

Scrubbing a set of wet hands over her face was all she was willing to do right now, and she made sure to rinse off the worst of the muck from her fingers before going back out into the room. This was in one of several small bedrooms set into the bunker, and she thought that perhaps this area has been intended for Dutch's niece, Jess, due to the size and furniture scattered about. It was spartan, but more generous than a few of the smaller rooms. The thought of Dutch and Jess sparked an intense pang of loss that Rook shoved back into the little corner of her brain where she was keeping the rest of her good sense.

Joseph was seated at the foot of the bed, tray of food still sitting off to his side. Rather than risk a conflict before she'd managed to take care of her basic needs, Rook just crossed to the far end of the bed, sat down, and started eating. It wasn't bad, something basic made from beans and ham with bread off to the side, but it was warm and filling. She belatedly wondered if it could be drugged, but why bother letting her out of the cuffs only to poison her? Besides, she wasn't sure she wouldn't welcome an easy death like that. It had to be easier than living this way, with him. Wouldn't it?

After she'd finished half of her meal and felt a little more human, Rook turned to find Joseph watching her again. She wanted to snap at him, ask him what was so interesting, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, she looked down at her tray and pushed a bit of food around with her fork, so she didn't have to see him watching her like that. "Have you tried the radio?" She asked, and there was a pause, and then a sigh.

"Yes... Nothing from the local channels. A few other bunkers in the area are broadcasting a general signal, but they wouldn't respond to me. They could be automated, or..." ‘ _They could know who I am’_ went unsaid. Anyone around these parts with a bunker would recognize Joseph's voice, would likely ignore his every word. He continued, "There's an emergency broadcast, generic. Nothing else." His voice was carefully neutral, but she suspected that he'd been expecting that himself. God probably told him there wouldn't be anyone to call for help, or something. She'd insist on taking a go at the radio herself later, but it wasn't worth the fight. She'd seen the bombs, she knew what they meant. Weeks of tiny clues and missed warnings flashed in her mind as the pieces fell into place. Dealing with the cult, she'd had little time to consider what was happening outside this tiny Montana valley. If it really was what she thought it was, there wouldn't be anyone else on that radio for a long, long time.

The silence stretched between them for a long moment, then Joseph finally stood. She watched as he reached for the tray, paused to see if she'd protest, and then when she did nothing, took it from where it was sitting on the bed. Almost out of habit, Rook murmured a thank you, and Joseph froze briefly before nodding. "Of course." And then he was heading towards the door. "You've been here before, you know where everything is. I'm set up in the room down the hall. You should get cleaned up, and rest." It seemed like he wanted to say more, perhaps he wanted to bless her or curse her, but he simply left and closed the door behind him.

Rook sat in silence for a long time, listening to the hum of the generators, and above, the occasional boom alerted her that things had not quieted down on the surface. If it was a nuclear blast, the bombs would cause small atmospheric explosions for a long time. Storms would also be bad for a while, currents upset by the indelicate bludgeon of explosives. She considered all this from a detached place until finally, like a dam breaking, she cried. She cried for all the people she'd met here in Hope County who were likely now dead, if not to the explosions than to the radiation or savage conditions outside. She cried for her family, back in New York, who lived in a 9th floor high-rise and wouldn't even have made it out of the building, much less into some kind of bunker. She cried for every man she'd ever dated, and every one she'd broken up with. She cried for the people she'd killed in Eden's Gate that could be safe in a bunker somewhere, right this very second.

The salt stung her face, letting her know there were even more tiny abrasions that she hadn't noticed in the mirror the first time. After the tears stopped and she felt numb, Rook dragged herself to the tiny shower stall she'd used a few times in her weeks in Hope County, scrubbing away the dirt, blood, mud, and sweat that coated her like a second skin. When she emerged she felt raw, like the layers of filth were protecting her from something and she'd carelessly scrubbed them away. Or maybe she really was raw, having been a little too enthusiastic about getting clean.

A closer inspection of the room Joseph had kept her in revealed that it had been intended as a space for Jess. Clothes of a simple but decent quality were folded in the small chest of drawers, and set back into the build-in desk were a few pictures. One was of Jess' graduation, and a careful eye could spot a young Hurk in the background. Another was of Dutch himself, looking younger and happier, if that was possible. Rook set them aside carefully and returned to the bed. She picked a shirt and a pair of underwear from the dresser, a little loose but serviceable, and then crawled into bed. She allowed sleep to take her, wishing that she never had to wake up.

\------

 

She and Joseph handled each other like delicate glass for a few days, falling into a routine. Rook had messed with the radio and sent out a few messages of her own, with no better luck than Joseph had. If there was anyone out there, they were staying quiet. Joseph cooked, and she couldn't help but be a little amused at that, prioritizing using up fresh ingredients first. Eventually they would subsist almost entirely on the stores of canned goods in the sub-level and items from the freezer, but for now, there was a supply of produce and meat that wouldn't last more than a few weeks.

She'd taken to cleaning up, doing the dishes and when it came time, the laundry. Joseph was as opposed to wearing shirts as ever, so he hadn't had much to wash for himself, but she'd offered to do it. They hadn't spoken unless necessary since he'd let her out of the cuffs. Finally, when Rook thought she might actually go as insane as she'd always thought Joseph was, she knocked on his door frame. He'd taken over the room Dutch had inhabited himself. It was disturbing, in the same way lots of things were disturbing these days, to see the man who'd killed her friend living in his space, eating his food and wearing his clothes. Then again, she'd been thinking a lot about her own actions, too.

At the knock, Joseph jerked up from whatever he'd been writing at the desk. She almost asked him what he was working on, but decided better of it at the last moment. If it was some kind of prophesy yet to be foretold, she could do without. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She said quietly, and he set down the pen before turning fully towards her in the chair and shook his head.

"I was too deep in thought, anyway." She waited for him to go on, and when he didn't, she realized that he was waiting for her. Which made sense, since she'd come to his door and interrupted him. Was she losing IQ points in this damn bunker already? Rook crossed her arms awkwardly, wondering exactly what she'd been thinking in coming here. She'd been lonely, if she was being honest with herself. She might as well be honest with him too.

"I uh... thought, maybe, we should talk." It was obvious that she didn't mean the casual speech necessary to operate in the same space as someone for a little over half a week. Joseph looked up sharply at her from where his eyes had strayed, like he didn't quite believe what she said, but it was hidden quickly behind his usual mask of serenity. She realized that his glasses hadn't made it out of the church yard, that she'd been expecting them to magically show up in Dutch's bunker. Eventually, she would have to stop thinking of it as belonging to Dutch.

Joseph stood, and Rook had to quickly suppress the urge to flee like a startled rabbit. Jacob would be ashamed of her cowardice, after all the work he put into making her an emotionless psychotic killing machine. The stab of guilt she had for killing him was as confusing as it was sudden. Joseph saw her reaction but didn't say anything, instead motioning for the doorway. "Join me in the living room? It might be a bit more comfortable there, and I have something to show you." He didn't approach until she'd turned and made room, clearly trying not to crowd her. Rook silently appreciated the gesture.

In the living room, she sat down a bit too heavily on the sole sofa and Joseph turned to her and snapped "Don't jump on the furn-" He stopped himself in the middle of a word as he looked at her, then sharply turned away, hand to his face. "I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, Faith used to do that. I reacted without thinking." The former Deputy stared, helplessly, as he schooled himself back into something more controlled. She expected him to sit in the chair next to her, or if he were feeling bold, perhaps on the couch with her. Instead he went to a shelf that held records, the old vinyl kind with art on the sleeves. A simple modern phonograph sat on the shelf beneath, tucked away along with some board games on the same shelf. Joseph pulled one out and removed first one half, and then the other, of a broken Record.

"I found this, while you were... I found this. I wanted you to know that I broke it, for yourself." He handed it over to her, and she stared blankly at the record for a long time, not understanding. It wasn't until she flipped over the sleeve to see the list of songs that she realized. That same song Jacob had used to control her was printed there, between other innocuous songs on some random album from over half a century ago. She dropped it as if it were a snake, as if the mere idea of the song could set off that trigger Jacob had implanted deep in her brain. Joseph looked harried, as if he might also have been concerned about the same thing.

Second ticked by while they both calmed a bit, and then Rook couldn't help it. She laughed. It wasn't the most genuine, full bodied laugh of her life, but after the last few days, after the church and the bombs and the weeks of grueling resistance effort? It was the most she'd allowed herself to laugh since before ever laying eyes on Joseph Seed. He apparently also saw the humor in their frankly ridiculous situation, because he joined in. By the time they stopped they were both leaking tears from their eyes, and Joseph sat back on the chair, crossing his legs in a way that almost seemed more like a teenager than the leader of a fanatical religious cult. Former leader, now. Former everything, the both of them.

"Thank you. For breaking it." She said gesturing to the record, which was now on the ground along with the sleeve. Resources were tight- they had a long time to spend in this bunker, and even just the two of them would press the limits of Dutch's forethought if they needed to be in here for the duration of nuclear fallout. Joseph sighed, nodding to acknowledge her but not otherwise breaking the silence. He still stared at her, however, and she found it unnerving, but not enough to question him on it. Yet.

"So..." She still had no idea what to say. She started from the objective, something they had to agree on. "We need to get along. You saved me, and I don't know why, but now we're here, and we have each other." It disturbed her how his face seemed to light up at her words, so she rushed to prevent him from answering with something about God making her his family. "But we have some things to work out, and we can't do that if I'm concerned you're going to come at me with a knife to cut my sin away. And there are things we aren't going to agree on. This place needs to be... sanctuary. Cease fire."

Joseph considered her then, examining her like she might a target. When she thought maybe he wasn't going to say anything at all, he nodded. "Alright. I don't feel the need to have you atone, not anymore. What could possibly be worse than what has already been wrought?" The underlying madness that she'd witnessed in him only days before, in the first night in the bunker, was still there simmering beneath the surface. But it was hidden behind this facade, and the man she dealt with now was almost normal. This entire situation of being domestic with the one man she'd been thirsting to kill for over a month was surreal, but somehow, it was fitting. It's not like she could have just gone back to her normal life after Hope County, not really. She was a murderer, in that regard, Joseph had been absolutely correct. It didn't make a single thing that Joseph and his family had done right, or moral, or good. But she couldn't escape the truth that her hands were as bloody as his, if not worse. And if his religious visions were _true_? If she really was some kind of instrument of the apocalypse? All the more guilt to be heaped on her own shoulders.

She exhaled a little too sharply, giving away her relief at his agreement. She still wouldn't sleep soundly for a long time, but for the moment at least, he seemed content to forgive her the old fashioned way. And speaking of forgiveness... "I... I wanted you to know that I'm sorry about your family." Unconsciously her fingers went to the hastily carved letters of ‘WRATH’ spelled out on her chest, John's messy handiwork. Joseph's eyes followed the line of her hand, lingering on the cut of the neck for a second too long. He leaned in, tilting his head a little.

"May I?" He asked quietly, holding up a hand but not reaching towards her until she timidly nodded. Fall's End had been her first stop after the helicopter crash, so the letters had now had plenty of time to heal. Despite how ugly they were, they'd healed fairly cleanly in the weeks since she'd received them. His fingers felt cool and dry over the slightly raised lettering, and he traced the "A" and the "T" before pulling away. He shook his head. "I didn't... disagree with John's methods, exactly, but he lacked tact, at times. And he usually had better penmanship." He said, and she was too shocked to laugh at first, face contorting as she tried to figure out if he was joking.

Joseph gestured at his torso, where the more clean black images were juxtaposed with the angry scrawl that matched her own tattooed sin. "Some of these are his work, actually. When it suited him, he was good." She couldn't help but rove her eyes over his body at that invitation, examining the birds on his collarbones and the crown below. The faded black tattoos contrasted with the sharp sins nearby, and she gestured to one shoulder where "SLOTH" was scratched in his skin.

"Why didn't he flay those off? That's what he did to the folks at the church at Fall's End. I thought the penance was the point. Getting the tattoo hurt, but not... like that." She trailed off, realizing what an insensitive question it was. Then again, Joseph presumably knew about the flaying, didn't he? He knew everything, according to John. Joseph made a small sound of annoyance, shaking his head.

"No, John was trying to make a point. The Collapse had already begun, and he knew the End would come soon. He wanted to scare people into joining us, getting to safety. The fear consumed him, that was his lack of faith." He said it simply, like he'd come to terms with that a long time ago. It sounded like something that was a recurring problem with John. Still, John hadn't just been tattooing and flaying people for their own well being, and she couldn't help but say as much.

"I don't know, he looked like he was enjoying himself." It came out sharper than she intended, and she immediately regretted saying it. She opened her mouth to rescend it, say she was just being bitter, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"He did. Truly, he did. John... well, it's tasteless to share the secrets of the dead, but he was not well. Before he'd come to us he was a broken man and we hardly put him back together. He couldn't separate love from pain, didn't think it was real or possible to have one without the other. We never could make him see, that was where we failed. Where I failed." When he stopped, Rook was looking at him with an odd expression, but she nodded. She'd seen that John obviously had lingering demons, though at the time she'd thought they were caused by Joseph and his backwards cult. She didn't know that that Joseph wasn't lying to her, but the more she thought about it, the more sure she was that Joseph hadn't really ever lied to her. Whatever was really going on, Joseph believed God spoke to him. He'd correctly predicted the apocalypse. And he'd saved the one person he had the most reason to hate in this world. His dishonesty was a function of his insanity, not malicious intent.

"Anyway, I wanted you to know that. That I'm sorry. I wish things could have been different." He scoffed and she lowered her eyes, deserving whatever he wanted to dish out, but the chastisement didn't come. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on her knee, a reassuring touch. After a few days in a post apocalyptic bunker mostly alone, she couldn't help the shiver that caused.

"I realize that you don't have faith, but you can trust that I believe this was God's plan for us, for you. I don't blame you more than I blame a wild animal that defends its home from a stray hiker. Perhaps you feel that is dismissive of your agency, but it also means that to me, you needn't feel guilty on my behalf. I mourn my siblings dearly, but I did see their deaths in my visions from God. I couldn't prepare myself for how it felt, but now, I... I just want us to… to cooperate." Joseph was a natural orator, and particularly when he was calm, listing to him was like laying in still, warm water. You could simply float away and never return if he never stopped speaking. John, for all his natural charisma, could have learned something from Joseph.

Rook _didn't_ like the implication that she was a mindless puppet for some deity to pull her strings, but she wouldn't argue about it now. Undoubtedly they would need to discuss it at some point, if only in fairness to Joseph, but there was no reason to rush. Speaking of time... "Do you know how long we need to be down here? I don't... I mean I could guess but..." He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand in a shockingly human gesture.

"I'm not sure. Nothing in my visions implies how long we're to be here, other than that it'll be enough time to build Eden's Gate. We heard a few detonations on our way here, and to have that yield... they almost have to be nuclear. I'm no radiologist but that has to mean a few years at least, doesn't it?" He sounded as lost as she did, but there was something... off about him as he said it. Rook resolved to look into it as much as she could on her own. Either way, there was a simple way to know if it was _currently_ safe outside the bunker.

"Dutch installed Geiger counters at periodic levels in the ground leading up to the surface, and a few at surface level. We can check those readings to see if it's safe to leave." She wasn't hopeful, however. He was right that nuclear fallout didn't just go away overnight. She didn't fancy her skin sloughing off or her insides bleeding, so it was going to be a long wait until she could get out of this place. Which meant she and Joseph were going to have plenty of time to get to know on another.

"That was clever." Joseph replied, reclining back a little in the chair. They were quiet for another moment, and as the silence stretched, it became more awkward. Just as she'd been ready to call the day a success and go back to her room, Joseph leaned forward and pulled on the lip of the coffee table. The lid came up and inside she found a familiar looking bag of weed, a pipe, a lighter, a grinder, and on the other side, tobacco pipe supplies with some loose tobacco. She scrunched up her brows, looking at Joseph.

"Dutch kept weed around? Really?" She wouldn't have pegged him for a smoker. Sure, technically pot was illegal in Montana, but she had better shit to do than harass people for doing what they wanted on their own time. Still, she liked to think she had a good sense about these things. Joseph just grinned, nodding to the gear.

"I figured we could indulge. Nobody around to judge us but God, and I don't think he'll mind." The conspiratorial tone Joseph took at the last bit made her laugh, and she took the grinder, lighter, and pipe before Joseph dutifully closed the secret coffee table compartment. She set about loading it while Joseph continued.

"I thought this might be it, but there are several vacuum sealed bricks in dry storage of it." He sounded like he disapproved, but when she passed the pipe to him for a first hit, he took it without comment and only coughed a little on the exhale. She was a little impressed, actually. Not as impressed as he was when she took a larger hit and exhaled like it was steam and not burning plant matter.

"More naughty than I gave you credit for, Deputy?" Joseph teased, taking the piece back from her and drawing off his own hit. He was obviously already more affected than she was, and she wondered when the last time he'd done this was. As was the way of pot, she asked it aloud then, too. "Me? Oh, a long time ago. Before I met my wife. Was I even out of high school?" Joseph shook his head. "Anything to escape back then. Pot was too simple though, drinking worked better and was less expensive." He readjusted on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, so Rook gestured to the love seat space beside her with her head.

"You can sit here, if you want. Will be easier to pass this if you do." She didn't wait to see what he would do, instead taking her hit until it cashed out and tipping the ash gently on to the table. Joseph stood and sat next to her, pressed against the far rest so a few inches of space was left between them. Wow, bitter enemies to smoking on a couch together in less than a week. If that wasn't proof she'd lost her mind, she didn't know what was. She loaded up a second bowl and took this green for herself, then passed it while she exhaled.

The drug made her feel more relaxed than she could remember being, and she groaned as she settled back into the cushions. Oh yes, this had absolutely been Dutch's chill smoke spot. They were able to casually enjoy the silence for a while before the bowl was finished and the pipe set aside. Rook shifted a little until she was facing Joseph, and she laid her head on the back of the couch. Now at least she could stare back at him without any work. The idea of them lying on the couch and staring at one another stoned made her laugh, and Joseph's lip quirked. "What? What's so funny?"

"I was just wondering why you've been staring at me so much." That didn't explain why she'd started laughing, actually, but he didn't call her on it as he pondered the question.

"I... guess I'm just waiting to see what you're like. I believe you've been brought here, that I was told to bring you here, to be my family. And we did so much research on you, but there's so much that research couldn't tell us. I know your blood type but not your favorite color. How silly is that?" She might normally have been unnerved to hear that the Seed family had taken a special interest in her personal life, but then again, they thought she was a bloody messiah of some kind. Of course they wanted to know more about her.

"Well, I don't have one." She declared, and Joseph sputtered.

"What do you mean you don't have one? Everyone has one." He said it with such fervency that he might as well be asserting that everyone had a brain, or lungs. She just shook her head.

"I don't, really. I always just picked one at random my entire life, I really don't care what color an item is. I just don't!" Realizing that this conversation was absurd, Rook shook her head. "I can't believe the first thing we're arguing about is favorite colors."

"Well, mine is blue. It reminds me of the sea." Rook smiled, thinking about Joseph on a rowboat somewhere in the middle of the ocean, looking out at a blank expanse of water. It reminded her of some kind of child's illustration in her head. The subsequent memory of Bliss induced rowboats with Faith and an imaginary Joseph were less pleasant. Joseph had already moved on.

"Do you have a husband?" Rook went quiet at that, eyes trimming back to look at his face. She hoped he wasn't about to become a crying stoner on her, that would be a bummer. She mostly liked to chill and party while smoking, if he was weepy she wouldn't be repeating this with him. But he didn't look too upset, just curious, so she answered him.

"No, no husband. No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no dogs and no cats. I don't have any siblings, and my mother is dead. My father lives- lived, I guess... Anyway he was in New Jersey and my grandmother was in New York. I was closest to them." Joseph had known some of that, but something inside him unwound at hearing her lack of husband. Was he really thinking that right now? Would God truly have provided for him in that way? Or was he allowing Lust to drive him? He pushed the thought aside and stood, wandering to the shelf with all the records.

"What type of music do you like? You _do_ have a favorite music, right?" He turned to give her a sour face, and Rook was shocked at how easy it was to talk with him. Sure, this was mindless, easy stuff while they were both high as a kite, but if this was what she had to endure, she thought she might just make it out of this bunker intact. Or at least suffer less than she originally thought.

"Yeeees. It matters for music, color is just pointless. I like lots of things. Metal?" She mused, then realized that this was Dutch's music collection. "But you can pick whatever you like." She agreed affably, and Joseph seemingly chose one at random and set it up. She was questioning if he'd even done it right before a soft piano started up. Joseph seemed pleased, returning to the couch and sitting down a little too roughly himself. She laughed, remembering his outburst earlier. Truly, she'd been a little mollified when he'd done it, thinking of all the times her mother told her something similar.

They sat in comfortable silence for a time, before Joseph's hand reached out to take hers, and she let him, warm and drugged as she felt. He curled his hand around her wrist, and his fingers traced the bluish vein on the inside with one finger. She felt a flare of heat, stronger than the one earlier, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. He didn't take his hand off of her wrist, but did eventually move further up her arm to nearly the inside of her elbow. Her skin was a little bruised all over and this was no exception, but it was otherwise smooth and unmarred, and very sensitive as he trailed his fingers so lightly over her skin that she barely felt him.

When he finally looked back up at her, that fire behind his eyes was back, though this time she wasn't scared of him. They had an understanding. If something happened to one of them, it would be disastrous for them both. If he was going to lose it and slit her throat in the night, there wasn't much she could do about it. And besides, after all Jacob had done to her, wasn't she more likely to snap dangerously in her sleep? Joseph didn't seem concerned, staring at her the same as before, but there was now an intent behind it. She used the hand he held to clasp his forearm, then used it and her other hand to move his fingers to her face. He shifted forward towards her to accommodate the move, knees now brushing while his hand cupped her jaw.

"Is this okay?" He asked, unsure, as if she hadn't moved him herself. She appreciated that sentiment, but wasn't interested in discussing this in detail. It was just something she wanted, something she thought might make her feel better in this bitter end. There was nobody left to betray, nobody left to disappoint. In some ways, being trapped with Joseph was a blessing, since she ostensibly didn't care what he thought of her.

She just nodded, turning her head to place a kiss on his palm, then down to his wrist, gentle, slowly. His arm curled naturally against her neck and in no time they were resting their foreheads together in a mockery of Joseph's religious actions towards his flock. Neither of them pointed out the blasphemous implications of that echo. She sighed and reveled in the closeness, then shook her head.

"This is okay." She confirmed, reaching out to lay a hand on his chest. He was shockingly warm, and she nearly recoiled from the heat. The feeling was mutual, if his own jitter was any indication. He chuckled, placing his free hand over hers, assuring her it was welcome.

"Sorry, your fingers are cold." He said, and she smiled sheepishly, wondering if she was more nervous than she realized. Most guys she wanted to sleep with were easy targets. She was usually more the aggressor, but something about Joseph's quiet energy made her want to allow him to do what he wanted. Maybe subconsciously she wanted him to work for it. He was still staring at her, searching her face, eyes flicking down to the dip of her cleavage, then back to her eyes.

"Are you sure?" He asked again, sharing her space, so close she could almost taste him. She didn't think about who he was, she didn't think about where they were, what the world looked like outside. She couldn't afford to think about those things, not when all she wanted was something that felt good and would help her forget for just a moment. With the weed giving her a pleasant high and his hands on her, she just wanted to let go.

"Yes, I'm sure. I thought about it, before." She admitted, their intimacy making her brave. He paused, considering her, and she wondered what he was thinking. That was was lesser because she had? Was he wondering if he should have tried to seduce her? It never would have worked, of course, but if it would have saved lives, would Joseph have decided it was worth the sin to try?

She got her answer. "I thought of you as well. I couldn't believe how powerful someone so beautiful could be." He murmured, and she would roll her eyes if she weren't thirsty for the attention. Even before Hope County she'd been eager for praise, but since all this started, she longed for it. That seemed to be enough for Joseph, who kissed her then. His lips were dry, slightly chapped from the recycled bunker air. She could feel where his face was still a little swollen from the previous days. Her own face was in a similar state, she was sure.

Kissing Joseph was nothing like she'd expected. A part of her had predicted him to be a violent lover, all repressed emotion and simmering hellfire. Another had assumed he'd be gentle, treat her like glass, like she might disappear in a cloud of Bliss smoke. He was neither of those things, but instead drank her in like a dying man in need of water. There was a level of desperation in his kisses, and she found herself responding in kind. Whatever tomorrow brought, this would make her feel better right now. This would be a balm to her wounded soul, in some twisted way.

He sat back for breath and she followed him back, throwing one leg over his until she straddled his lap. From this angle she could see the pleasing roll of his shoulders, his lanky abdominal muscles tensed as he leaned up towards her. If she didn't focus on who he was, he was a very handsome man, as were all the Seed siblings. She allowed his arms to loop around her waist and pull her in, causing her to press fully against him as they kissed again. She laid her arms over his shoulders, keeping her balance and staying close. By the time they both needed to breathe again she was panting, trying to calm her racing heart.

She thought maybe he’d shove her off as they separated, suddenly unsure of himself or as if she’d seduced him, but he made no such move. Instead, he seemed unwilling to consider allowing her to move away. She drew a sharp breath as she searched his face for a reaction. The look in his eyes was feral, and his fingers squeezed softly along the softness of her hips. His voice was a stark contrast to his face, soft tone incongruous with the fire behind his wide pupils.

“Tell me to stop. Anytime, tell me...” He trailed off, distracted by the amused curve of her lip at his warnings. He really was trying to be a gentleman, but right now Rook didn’t want that from him. Maybe this was a bad idea, but was she really going to go without this for as long as it was going to take to get out of here? This was something she could control, something in which she had power over him. She was more than willing to make this compromise.

“Right now I’m telling you to go faster.” She taunted, reaching down to pull the soft cotton shirt from her torso. This left them both bare from the waist up and the feeling of his hot skin on her nipples sent a thrill up her spine. Joseph, for his part, couldn’t look away, eyes trained on the gentle sway of her breasts as she took of her top, watched as they molded against his own chest. She was young and vibrant while he was older, out of practice, but he was suddenly inspired to please her in any way that he could. He wanted her to want this, wanted to have this intimacy between them. He would earn her satisfaction, and he would enjoy it.

Sending up a little prayer for forgiveness of his sin, Joseph moved his hands to help roll Rook’s hips against his own. The fuzzy texture of her sweats concealed less than his own denim jeans, but neither could hide the hardness of his cock, grown thick and full from her kisses and her squirming. For her part, she seemed charmed, maybe a bit shocked. He couldn’t help the dark chuckle that slipped past his lips at that.

“What can I say? I am but a man. I thought of you laid out before me on a bed of silk, strong muscles eased still and only tensing when I brought you pleasure...” If his erection was a shock, the filthy image he conjured in that soft spoken voice was earth-shattering. She didn’t have time to cut in before he continued. “I wondered if you would be loud, or if you’d writhe for me. How could I not? You consumed my thoughts for weeks, and even before that I saw you in my dreams.”

At another time perhaps it would be creepy, perhaps tomorrow morning she’d be horrified at this. For now, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. He was as close to the last man on earth as one could get, and she felt a thrill at corrupting a supposedly religious figure to such tawdry sin. Her mind was conveniently setting aside all the other blatantly heretical things he and his flock had done. That was the past, and the past didn’t have any meaning here in this bunker.

She couldn’t find her voice to treat him to any real kind of reply, but she did answer his question when his lips trailed from her collarbone up her neck and back behind her ear. The low, rumble of a moan was all he seemed to want from her anyway, if the pleased hum was any indication. His fingers had moved up her body to cradle her shoulder blades, and were slowly moving around to cup her breasts. She wasn’t the largest woman, but her chest was soft and pleasantly curved where he squeezed, making his hips twitch a little in response. He’d never seen her exposed like this, even when she’d been captured by John or Jacob. The memory of her imprisonment brought up mixed emotions, as did the memory of his siblings.

Crushing that thought down with sharp nips and kisses to her torso was easy enough, particularly when she was inclined to twitch and yelp at each one. It made for a thoroughly entertaining exploration of her chest. By the time his fingers strayed back to her waistband, they were both worked up and she said nothing as she got off to let the sweats slide down her legs. She did hesitate for a second on the cotton panties, but at this point it was a little late for shyness. Still, she could feel the blush as she let them fall, reluctant to straddle him again when it would now expose her pussy to him so obscenely. He must have realized it too, because he crossed his arms behind his head and grinned.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you Rook?” Joseph asked, and she nearly huffed at him. He knew what he was doing, of course, and she slid back into his lap now sans pants just to show him that she wasn’t afraid. He was good at playing her emotions. Sitting as she was left her open to him, however, and he didn’t let the opportunity go to waste. Deft fingers trailed from her stomach down to her inner thigh and then up and down the crease where her leg met her torso. Embarrassingly, she could feel herself getting wetter under his scrutiny.

He clearly liked what he saw, if the erection he was still nursing was any indication. Every once in a while she could feel it throb against her leg. The tips of his fingers trailed along her wet slit, dipping in just enough to tease and gather a bit of wetness before sliding back out, then up to tempt the idea of touching her clit, but not yet getting there. Rook’s frustrated whine made him chuckle, and this time he was serious as he rubbed her, watching her face for reactions. She enjoyed it most when he pressed a smooth circular path just above her clit, every one in a while letting his finger press fully on it and causing her hips to stutter.

He brought her to orgasm just like that, watching carefully for signs that the woman on his lap was getting close to her peak. She tapped on his shoulder to alert him, expecting that he would slow down, stop, want to free his own erection and get his own satisfaction, but he did no such thing. Instead he just went faster and she tumbled over in a series of swears and rhythmically tensing muscles. Eventually the tide ebbed and she slumped against him, boneless. His sticky fingers brushed absently over her hip while he cradled her, hardness still interested beneath her weight.

After a bit she sighed and sat up, looking down at him. He looked as wrecked as she felt, but he didn’t move to push her. It was her choice to stand, to kneel and unbutton the jeans, pull them down his slender legs. He was of a moderate size, but standing hot and hard and proud before her, she couldn’t ask for a better dick. Her gun-calloused fingers wrapped around him and he hissed, hips jerking in sensitivity. She loosened her grip, mollified, and that caused him to laugh, tugging her up to kiss him once again. From there it was a slow slide of lips that betrayed the nervous anticipation building between them once again.

The former Deputy was shaking by the time he lined himself up with her entrance, eyes locked on her face as she took the initiative to lower herself inch by inch. This was hardly Rook’s first rodeo, but it had been long enough since she’d done this that it was worth her patience. For his part Joseph waited without complaint, though she could feel the restrained energy in his fingers as he held onto her hips.

Once they were flush, all bets were off, Rook’s body moving practically on its own, chasing a satisfaction that she shouldn’t want. She shouldn’t be fucking Joseph Seed and she definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But the world shouldn’t be blown up and she shouldn’t be a murderer, and Dutch should be here in his crazy little bunker instead of the two of them. So she let go of all those ideals, let go of the last few weeks, let go of everything that wasn’t the heat of Joseph inside of her and the building pleasure she could feel in her spine.

Suddenly the world tilted and she was on her back on the soft cushions, Joseph above her and moving with a feline grace she hadn’t been sure he even possessed. The long line of his torso gave him leverage to fuck into her slow and deep, resisting her efforts to speed him along. Older than her, he was good at holding himself in check, wanted to make this last as long as he could. Eventually she moaned in frustration, hips rolling to get a little extra friction than he was willing to give.

From this position it was impossible to escape the intimacy of what they were doing, his eyes never leaving hers as they came together again and again. Every time she’d let her head fall back or let her eyes shut he’d slow down or change his angle, subtly coaxing her to stay with him in the moment. The manipulation would undoubtedly annoy her if it wasn’t hot as fuck to look into his eyes on each stroke. Perhaps it was a bit blasphemous to think it while his cock was buried inside her, but she could see why people would literally follow this man to hell. Everything about him seem to scream that he paid attention only to her, that his devotion to whatever he was doing was as strong as his devotion to his God. Currently, he was doing her, straight into the cushions of the couch.

Finally, after being held on what felt like the knife’s edge of pleasure and desperation, Joseph sped up and threaded his fingers of one hand into her hair, using it as an anchor to tilt her head back. His kisses on her neck gave way to shocking love bites that had her coming hard beneath him, tight walls a ripple of pressure against his already feeble self control. With a groan he came, and she felt a flush of embarrassed pleasure at the feeling of warm seed inside her. Hey, it was Seed’s seed!

As if he could read her mind, Joseph groaned when she started to giggle. “That joke is so _old.”_ He chastised, when she confirmed his suspicions. She only laughed harder at the idea that some other woman had the same thought immediately post-coitus. When her laughing died off, the room was unnaturally quiet as they laid together, still intertwined on the couch. The record must have stopped at some point, though she hadn’t noticed when. She didn’t have the urge to move immediately, and Joseph didn’t bother to shift more than necessary not to hurt her, and to see her face.

He was the first to speak. “Thank you, for sharing yourself with me.” He praised, nuzzling against her face in a way that made her crinkle her nose. It was gooey and affectionate and they were both covered in sweat, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she wanted him to stop. Eventually she might want space, eventually she might come to resent him, but for the moment, all she wanted was the comfort he could provide. He’d predicted the apocalypse and saved her from imminent destruction.

She didn’t answer him verbally, but the gentle fingers trailing on his shoulder told him all he needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you someone who writes Far Cry 5 fanfic? Wanna chat about it? Feel free to send me a message! I'm currently looking for a community of adult Far Cry 5 fans to join and chat about the game.


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